


Thicker Than Water

by snowpuppies



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark, Drama, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Drusilla, family is everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: for the c2c_buffyawards Challenge #1 For Prompt #1: Connor, Family Rules
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful velvetwhip!

**Thicker Than Water**

 

 _She can't find them._

 _She sees, sees it all behind her eyelids—paper and ribbons and vomit—but it doesn't make sense, no sense at all, and she might be going mad, but Mummy and Daddy will make it all right, she just knows it._

 _If she can—blood, blood, so much blood—find them._

 _  
She searches._

 _Everywhere._

 _  
Each corner of her mind dusted and organized and explored, but she doesn't remember, doesn't—maggot-filled eyes stare back at her; Mother's dress is torn—know what happened._

 _The Sisters assure her the torment will stop. Will stop._

 _She just has to find her way…_

  
***

  
She's waiting inside the tear in reality when he steps through.

Grinning, she licks her teeth and draws him in; he drops to the floor without a thought.

She takes the babe from his arms and cuddles him close.

"Shhh," she croons. "Mummy's got you now."

He blinks up, summers-sky blue eyes, and she can feel it, all the way down to her toes, in all of her parts—inside and out—that this child is hers to keep.

  
***

  
 _She opens her eyes; Daddy grins—fangs glinting in the moonlight._

 _"Welcome to the Family."_

 _She rises, eyes open wide as she reaches for his hand._

 _Yes. He'll be her King of Cups, and she'll be his Princess._

 _She laughs; it echoes in the still of the night._

  
***

He nurses from her breast, blood oozing from the cut she makes with her fingernail.

He grows quickly, fast and strong like their Daddy, sharp and witty like their Mummy.

She _sees_ in his eyes and he _sees_ in hers, soft little-boy lips open in concentration as he copies her thrall, turning her outside-in until her stomach rumbles in delight. Little duckling follows Mummy's every move, helping her strip the flesh from a Sluk—black as night and sticky with ichor—dancing to the singing of the stars—they burned brighter in Quor'toth, their songs screams of beautiful agony—feasting on blood and flesh, messy-faced and grinning in the wake of her approval.

  
***

  
 _She whimpers._

 _Darla licks the wound clean, sluggish blood dripping from her chin like ecstasy, like poppies in the snow and warm chestnuts in the afternoon._

 _"There, there," the words brush against her temple; she leans into the caress, a wriggly puppy looking for a scratch. "Mummy will take care of you. It's what family's for."_

 _She sighs—the stars echo in harmony with each other. This is the way things are supposed to be. Right and sure._

 _She lifts her chin and captures crimson-stained lips with her own._

  
***

  
She wakes in a frenzy, head spinning, agony and nausea and gut-clenching fear. She's seen it—he's fallen, pleading eyes, grimacing mouth, as something foul stalks closer.

Lace and velvet whirl as she flies to him, clingy black sand flying beneath her heels like a cloud of gnats. The pixies buzz in her ears, angry like hornets; she can see the world tilt as her house of cards crumbles like dust.

It'll not happen. She's come in time, racing on the wings of demons, ready to rend and tear and devour the foe that's threatened her boy.

She finds him covered in gore, crooked smile, laughing at her shrieks as they dance through the carcass.

She's raised him well, her Boy.

He's almost ready.

  
***

  
 _Her William dozes in her arms._

 _She toys with his curls, humming idly to the songs in his heart—the ones she heard the moment their eyes met, snips and snaps and fireworks in counterpoint._

 _She's satisfied, body gloriously sticky with blood and come and saliva; she smells of her William, of Darla and Angelus and…Family._

 _Leaning closer, she nips his skin, lips suckling at the wound._

 _Her Prince tastes of jellies and candy floss, summer rain and daisies._

 _She feels his smile against her skin; the pixies giggle in delight._

 _And all is right._

  
***

  
He presses against her, trembling with youth and vigor, aroused by the violence of his hunt.

She closes her eyes and sighs as his hands find her buttons and zippers. Stickyslick skin against her own, his mouth devouring her flesh, smooth teeth nipping, lips sucking, tongue caressing the tendons of her neck, the soft skin of her shoulders, latching onto the tender rise of her breasts.

He slides _in_ , grunting against her cheek as he begins to move as his instinct desires.

She clenches, grinning wickedly.

"Mummy," he sighs, breath warm against her neck.

His thrusts become harder.

Yes.

 _Yes._

He's ready.

***

  
 _The world is screaming._

 _ **Screaming**._

 _All around, topsy-turvy, buckets and rust and blackened claws inside-out underneath it all rotting flesh and she'll not be a corpse again. No. Not allowed._

 _Mummy is shrieking. The air is filled with broken bits and bobs as the hurricane rips through their home; Darla is not happy._

 _She wails. She knows the answer, knows it, but cannot abide it. Cannot squirrel it away, cannot hold it close like a broken bird, crushing its bones in her tiny hand. The stars are weeping._

 _A soul, they say. A soul._

 _The King of Cups has become The Fool._

 _And the family is in ruins._

  
***

  
Her Angel—Her Daddy—is there, birdsong and laughter filling his head as he gapes.

The boy pulls from her grasp, eyes open in welcome, arms spread wide.

Grinning, he gasps, "Daddy!"

  
***

  
 _Darla and William finish them off; the dirty gypsies—tambourines and scarves and malice, hunting them down, ripping them asunder._

 _Naughty boys don't get their bread._

 _But Mummy and William get theirs._

 _  
The rumbly churning of her stomach does not cease._

 _It's all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She must make it right. Her family is everything, blood and breath and flesh and tears._

 _The pixies sing a song of new leaves and freshly-blackened boots._

 _Yes. She can be patient._

 _She can wait._

  
***

  
He rises from the floor, his body like a snake, like summer wheat in the wind's vicious grasp, sinuous and seductive.

He clasps the boy in his arms, fang-filled smile content and wicked.

She tingles in anticipation.

"My Son," he sighs, crushing the boy to his body. He looks up over the top of the boy's head and his eyes lock with hers.

He grins and his eyes are black as night, needles burning into her skin.

Yes.

Yes.

She laughs in delight as she flies with fairy wings into his arms.

  
Her Daddy is _hers_ once more.

  
 _FIN_.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/263161.html).


End file.
